The Silk Merchant's Daughter by Dinah Jefferies Read Free Book Online

but the split-second pause before he answered bothered her.
    ‘Why say that?’
    ‘Because Sylvie’s in charge now, so it should be her you’re working with, not Father.’
    ‘I shall be, with your father’s help. Though none of us want to see the spread of communism across South East Asia, do we?’ He reached out a hand to her but she pulled back a little. She felt the intensity of his look was capable of making her so self-conscious that even the sound of her own voice might become strange to her.
    ‘So I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six and we’ll watch the sun going down over the lake. It’ll be fine.’
    She wanted to question him further, but he stood up and, with long strides, left the cafe. She bounded after him, only to find that he had paused outside. When she bumped straight into him he gave her the lightest of kisses on the lips, sending a thrill through her entire body. She pushed back the hair from her face and, still spinning from the sensation, wanted more; he must have known it, but he drew back as if thinking better of it.
    By the time Nicole had finished her shopping, the air was laced with the smell of drains, although it wasn’t too unpleasant as the aroma of freshly baked pastries was stronger. This place was like that. Good and bad mixed up together. Luckily theclouds had passed over and children were running about doing chores for their mothers or playing in the gutters, though goodness knows what they might pick up from the slimy brown water or the clouds of mosquitoes thickening the air.
    Nicole stood at the entrance to the shop with the key in her hand. Next to her a crippled man held out a carton of fried greens and ginger-marinated bean curd from where he sat on the pavement. She turned to give him some coins and exchange a few words.
    She heard a radio playing Vietnamese music and glanced at the upstairs window of the narrow silk shop opposite. Not as colourful and smaller than theirs, it stocked lengths of inferior fabric for curtains. As the widow of the man who had previously managed the Duval silk shop scowled down at her from behind a partially closed curtain, Nicole caught sight of her teeth. The woman still had hers enamelled in black; obviously a member of the old school who believed white teeth were only suitable for the fangs of dogs. When Nicole lifted her hand in greeting, the curtain whipped across and the woman disappeared.
    She heard someone behind her and spun round but it was only a trader selling grilled spring rolls. The smell of charcoal from his stove hung in the air. As she glanced across she noticed a young man staring at her. He had the typically wide face of the Vietnamese, thick eyebrows and dark shallow-set eyes. She nodded at him and slid the key into the lock, but before she could go inside the man had come across.
    ‘You running it now?’ he said, showing the gap between his front teeth.
    ‘I am.’
    He had spiky black hair, was barefoot and wore dark
áo bà ba
, the typical rural working-men’s pyjamas.
    ‘You look better like that,’ he said, and touched her sleeve.
    She sniffed and glanced down at her clothes. ‘Have you been watching me?’
    He inclined his head and began rolling a cigarette. ‘Maybe.’
    As she turned away she sensed he had moved off too. There had been a hint of arrogance about him and it crossed her mind he might be the ‘protection’ Sylvie had said she would organize. She looked over her shoulder to see him melt into the medley of street hawkers selling sticky rice puddings from their baskets.
    Once inside, Nicole explored the poky downstairs rooms of the shop, noting the stained wooden beams, the ancient carvings and the dark tiled floors; most rooms, divided only by decorative wooden trellises, provided no privacy at all. She had not broached the subject yet, but her idea was actually to live here as well as manage the shop. It would be a startling departure and she was anxious about it, but it would give her the